


ABC Kink - "C for Crossdressing"

by raja815



Series: ABC Kink [3]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M, abc kink, leg fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-15
Updated: 2009-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-26 18:01:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/652942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raja815/pseuds/raja815
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>...C is for crossdressing; though<br/>It may not be convincing....</p>
            </blockquote>





	ABC Kink - "C for Crossdressing"

  
for **“Crossdressing”**   


  
Everyone knew Roy Mustang was a thigh man.

For some guys it was hips. For others, like Jean Havoc, it was tits. But nothing turned the Colonel’s head like a pair of long, sinuous thighs. The sight of him turning with an appreciative smirk to watch some long-legged beauty in a tiny skirt stroll past was a common one. Yes, he loved thighs, and loved everything that came with them; loved old-fashioned silk hose, loved brushing his hand over the smooth expanse, tracing the seam up the back like a cartographer inspecting a map to some untold treasure, loved the newfangled nylons that were beginning to be popular, those seamless wonders that begged his fingers to peel them away. He loved garters and belted stockings, leather and lace, any and everything as long as they graced an exquisite set of legs.

On that note, everyone knew Jean Havoc had an amazing set of thighs.

As he’d often said, strong legs were something you built up after years on a farm followed by years of drills, marching, and obstacle running, whether you wanted them or not. Which may have been true, but Roy was still fairly certain, after a few well-timed visits to the showers in the officer’s quarters, that he’d never seen a finer set of legs anywhere in the military. It hadn’t taken him long to develop a bit of an obsession. But, of course, Roy Mustang being Roy Mustang, such an obsession was bound not to go unrequited for long.

Havoc had balked at first, but, as usual, Roy got his way in the end. Now Jean stood still, leaning against Roy’s bedroom wall with his eyes squeezed shut and clutching the bedstead for balance, letting Roy slide the stockings (nylon, for their elasticity; it would have been hard to find silk ones that would fit him without drawing odd looks from the lingerie shop proprietors) over his calves, above his knees, smoothing them over the much-treasured thigh muscles, clipping them to the ingenious little buckles on the black silk garter belt.

Roy allowed himself a small, satisfied hum, and moved on to the other leg. It was freshly shaven, and looked more elegantly sculpted than ever devoid of its usual coarse blond hair. Once that leg matched its mate, Roy reached for the uniform dress skirt he’d procured from the wardrobe department at Headquarters and shortened as best he could with his own clumsy needle skills. For a moment he worried it would be too small, though he’d gotten the largest one they had on hand. But, accompanied by a little shiver of anticipation, the last button finally slid closed, with the thick blue wool stretched tight enough to see the curves of musculature in Havoc’s ass. Roy pulled and twisted the hemline straight, then buckled the straps of the largest pair of heels he’d been able to find (an awkward fit, but workable for his purposes) over Jean's feet and stood back to study the finished result.

“Well,” Jean asked a few moments later, when he could no longer bear the furious heat of his blush in silence. “How do I look?”

He felt himself turned in the general direction of Roy’s wardrobe mirror, teetering a bit on the heels, and embraced from behind. Roy’s appreciative mouth hit him right at the shoulder blade. His railspike of an erection hit just below the hem of the skirt.

“See for yourself,” he whispered, and stroked Jean’s beautified legs with something very like reverence as his lieutenant dared to take a glance.

  



End file.
